


He Was.

by AddyCat



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Backstory, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, but its like 2 sentences and implied mostly, there's a small mention of underage bc connor was 14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AddyCat/pseuds/AddyCat
Summary: He was fourteen. Young, naive, and aching to fit in.  He was seventeen. Sly, cunning, and thirsting to feel. He was twenty-five. Broken, needy, and desperate to cling to something, anything, that would make him forget.A Connor Walsh examination.





	He Was.

**Author's Note:**

> This has a small, two-sentence segment of implied sex where Connor is underage, just be mindful of that! Thank you!

He was fourteen. Young, naive, and aching to fit in.

Boys his age found a sick amount of glee at the sight of their female classmates squealing and tumbling in the grass, jean-shorts riding up and tank-tops hitching enough to reveal petal-soft skin. He was young. Impressionable. Easy to twist, pry, and take apart--and Connor Walsh was nothing if not smart.

Falling into place within the ‘in crowd’ during middle school was a feat all too easily conquered by the boy with soft brown curls and winning smile. The Walsh charm was a gift, one the boy wielded like a weapon at only fourteen years old. He knew how to play the game, how to meld into the crowd and hum approvingly as girls his age flashed him flirtatious smiles or left stray touches against his skin. He knew how to pretend, how to act, how to behave like a ‘normal’ boy--even if he never quite felt that spark everyone else seemed to buzz about. 

Thin, delicate fingers laced through his own as lips met. Awkward, sloppy, and almost half-hearted--but Connor Walsh didn’t quite. He was young and naive, aching to find his spot in the hierarchy of middle school royalty--and he would be damned if he didn’t at least try. 

This is what summer camp was for.

She was a pretty thing, all soft blonde curls and breathy sighs as teeth bumped together and tongues sloppily tangled in a mess of awkward desire--or un-desire on Connor’s part. They were boyfriend-and-girlfriend now--and yet, why did the kiss feel like nothing? Awkward smiles, forced hand-holding--and everyone bought it; hook, line, and sinker. He had a girlfriend now. He was a normal boy. He was going to have it all. 

… Until he came along. 

_“Relax, it’s just me,”_ he introduced himself before Connor could stumble to his feet in a hasty apology for being out after hours. The dark, star-studded sky hung overhead, pale silver moonlight bleeding through the clouds as their only witness. _“What are you doing out here? It’s lights out.”_  

Throat ran dry and amber eyes flickered away in embarrassment. Connor was on the verge of whispering a half-assed apology when his laugh brought hesitant gaze back up to rest on the other. He was handsome. Tall, tanned, muscled in all the right places. Connor had heard the girls whisper far too many times behind their hands, giggling about how _‘hot Camp Counselor Matthew was.’_ He had always listened idly, feigning disinterest even as his curious gaze flickered over to sweep over the man in question. Always had a dimpled smile on his face, always laughed, always lit up the room he walked into--and Connor begrudgingly admitted to himself that perhaps the girls were right.

Not that it mattered. He had a girlfriend.

He always thought it was jealousy that made him feel the way he did, made him stare a little too long or hyperfocus on the most minute details even when he had other things to concentrate on. But now, with nothing but the still forest darkness surrounding them and the sound of the crickets chirping to mingle with their quiet breaths, Connor couldn’t help but fixate on every little thing about him, him, him.

Lips parted as Connor finally spoke, hesitant and awkward enough to silently kick himself. Where did that Walsh Charm go when he needed it? “They dared me to sit out here all night,” the boy mumbled as confidently as he could manage, gaze flicking up to meet warm brown eyes.

His laugh felt like bliss--gentle and good-natured. Warmth flushed through him, heated embarrassment causing him to duck his head and swallow the lump in his throat. Cheeks were burning bright red, he knew, and for a moment, Connor was thankful that the darkness concealed the flustered look upon his features.

_“C’mon, let’s go back to my cabin. That way, you can go back tomorrow and say you actually stayed out here. I just don’t want you catching a cold, kid.”_  

Awe dripped over his expression, all thoughts of his girlfriend pushed aside as widened amber eyes took in every detail of the older boys’ face before hastily nodding his head. “Y--yeah. Yeah, sure.” He recovered quickly enough to sniff indignantly, straightening up as much as he could before trailing after him. 

Perhaps he was vulnerable. Easy to manipulate. Too eager to please. Perhaps he was simply confused and lost and too much of a child to understand what was happening--even as bodies curled together under the sheets and lips finally met. It felt nothing like the kisses he had shared with his girl. They weren’t awkward, rushed, unfeeling. It was bliss. Warm. Electrifying. Hands wandered, touched him in places that pulled delicate whines and embarrassing noises that Connor didn’t know he could make. 

The best part? He walked away the next morning and returned to feeling ‘normal’ again. As if the older boy with the dark hair and charming, dimpled smile hadn’t made him feel something unforgettable.

 

\---

 

He was seventeen. Sly, cunning, and thirsting to feel.

Boarding school was a bitch, a cold and isolating institution that he had been banished to after ‘the gay thing’ finally outed itself with abandon. The young man with the charming smirk and locks of soft, curly brown knew better than to let himself succumb to the anxiety rooted deep in his chest. Connor Walsh had learned long ago that weakness was failure--and if he let his parents win this battle, he’d never win.

He spun the situation around in his favor, finding that the school of all boys was the perfect hunting ground for someone like him--someone that had an insatiable hunger for belonging. Sex was easy. Sex let him feel good, let him reach a climax that pushed him over the edge far enough, hard enough, to make him forget that perhaps this world was too fucked up for his own good--and with three hundred teenaged boys crammed into one building, hormones were bound to run wild.

Aiden Walker was an easy target, all but begging boys like Connor Walsh to ravage him senseless. The New Hampshire winter was brutal, after all. Windowpanes were frosted over, glassed and opaque. Christmas music played in muted volume through the hallways, wreaths halfway falling off the walls as boys drunk off of spiked eggnog and scotch tore through the corridors. The Sunday morning lull was always the most comfortable--and boys like Aiden were the type to want company. 

He was smart. Cunning. Charming. Sly. He knew how to smile, how to laugh just on cue, how to bat his lashes and bite his lip in just the right way--and best of all, he knew how to prey upon the weak. They were supposed to be studying for finals, watch a crappy Christmas movie rerun, and maybe grab a bite to eat--but Connor had other plans.

He wasn’t fourteen anymore. He wasn’t scared. Shy. Naive. He knew what he wanted and he would stop at nothing to get just that. 

_“I’m not gay,”_ Aiden protested, pulling a smirk to Connor’s pink lips as hands began to wander. _“But God, do I want you right now.”_  

Connor was purring, bodies pressed close and hips rocking slowly, sensually, only to focus on the sounds Aiden Walker couldn’t help but emit. “It’s just a one time thing,” Connor promised, words little more than a husky whisper as hands slid under clothing. “I’ll even let you fuck me.” Words were a purred-out taunt, laced with seduction.

Positions were reversed just as the other man let out a ragged growl, watching as Connor Walsh, _the_ Connor Walsh, slid back onto his knees and turned himself over, back arched all cat-like and thighs sliding apart in the most intoxicating and sexual sight Aiden had seen outside of _porn_ since the schoolyear started.

Connor felt his breath hitch as hands gripped his hips, sharply tugging back. Goosebumps rose against his skin, head rolling to the side just as Aiden’s warm breath washed over his skin. _“Fuck, Con… You look so fucking sexy right now.”_

Moan caught in his throat, Connor couldn’t help the way teeth caught his lower lip to stifle the sound. “Then what are you waiting for, Walker? _Fuck_ me.” Hips pressed back the moment moaned-out words spilled out of him.

And just like that, Connor Walsh made boarding school his bitch. He was the king of everything.

 

\----

 

He was twenty-five. Broken, needy, and desperate to cling to something, anything, that would make him forget.

Connor Walsh didn’t do boyfriends. He didn’t let himself get attached, didn’t let himself fall victim to the pain of getting rejected and thrown out like the little boy-toy he knew he often was. Straight boys wanted to experiment. Older boys wanted something young and fresh. And the guys off of Humpr? They were a joke. No, no one _wanted_ Connor Walsh, not like that. And on God’s name, he didn’t want anyone either.

He had convinced himself of that, etched it into his heart and cut off anyone who dared to call him more than three times a week or wanted to ask him out on dates. He wanted sex. Wanted instant gratification. At least, this way, he’d never be hurt… 

And yet, those familiar brown eyes, that somewhat awkward fidgeting, nerd-like laughter, and those deft fingertips, tapping away at keys with ease seemed to haunt the might Connor Walsh every time amber eyes slid shut. It was unbearable. The sight of Sam Keating’s body, chopped up and thrown away, incinerated until fragments of bone and burnt flesh, invaded every one of his waking thoughts until he felt nothing but impending dread and anxiety. He never found relief--not until his thoughts were invaded by everything that was _Oliver Hampton._

For once in his life, Connor found that he needed someone--no, needed him. Needed that snorted laughter and ‘the gay stereotypes.’ Needed the domesticity, the stability, the warmth that he found only in Apartment 303 after a long night’s shift as Annalise’s bitch. He was damaged goods. He was broken. He was an old toy. 

But most of all, he was in love. And Connor Walsh wasn’t sure if he was willing to let that go.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first HTGAWM fic over my boi, Connor Walsh. Please hit this with a Kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed this, any sort of constructive criticism would be wonderful!!


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